 |
Chapter 2 |  |
Chapter 4 |  |
Renegade
Panzure and Tan'et strode out of the door, and immediately a shadowy
figure loomed out of a dark side street.
"Your money. Now," the thief said, moonlight glinting off a knife
blade.
Panzure's right fist shot out and hit the hapless Norn squarely in
the face. Tan'et sighed disapproval.
"That wasn't very nice."
"I'm not a nice person," Panzure grunted.
The monk shrugged and they walked on. After a while Panzure
whispered quietly out of the corner of his mouth to Tan'et.
"Female Norn. About two hundred yards behind us."
"Alba, I think," Tan'et whispered back. He paused shortly. "Carrying
three long knives with blackened blades, one curved, two straight, and
some small circular things I can't recognise."
"Throwing stars," Panzure whispered back. "Black fur. Long red hair,
let loose. In between your height and mine. Wearing assassin's silk
robes. She's either frowning or scowling, can't tell at this
distance."
There was a long pause.
"You can tell all that just by listening?" Tan'et whispered.
"I spent some time with Grendels," Panzure whispered in blunt reply.
"Her name's Zara, by the way."
"I'd say she was between 25 and 30 years old."
"Naah. She's either 23 or I'm a puzzle chimp."
"That precise?"
"If you want to be very precise, I'd say 23 years, eight months,
seventeen days and four hours."
"Now you're just lying."
"We'll see."
They carried on walking softly until they came to a crossroads. In
wordless agreement, the both went separate ways. Panzure immediately
grabbed a window ledge and swung himself up, scaling up until he
reached the roof. He leapt soundlessly from building to building,
landing quietly on the stone tiles. He turned and quickly looked
around, scanning the streets for either the assassin, Zara, or Tan'et.
He briefly saw the monk drop into a drain a few streets away from
himself before losing sight of him, then spotted him again halfway
across the city.
"He's fast," muttered Panzure.
"But you're not," a silky voice said behind him. Panzure whirled
around to see a shadowy figure in black, holding a black, curved
dagger.
"Zara, I presume?" Panzure asked. The assassin snarled.
"How did you-?"
"I have good hearing. Better than yours it seems."
"I have to kill you now. No-one must know my name."
"Then don't mutter under your breath," retorted Panzure.
The assassin didn't reply, but spun and brought the dagger down in a
curving sweep. Panzure brought up his hand to block to blow, but the
steel sliced through his arm, severing it at the shoulder. He
staggered back and clutched the wound with his other hand.
"What do you know of me?" Panzure said, through clenched teeth.
"You are a hired soldier, one who kills hundreds for a small price."
"I served with Grendels."
"So?" Zara said, concealing the curved dagger in her robes and
bringing out the two straight ones with one swift movement.
"Then you should know, that only a Grendel may fight alongside their
brothers."
The assassin leant back, ready to strike. She gripped the daggers
tightly.
"You are a Norn," she said, uncertain.
"Correction," said Panzure, grinning, "I am half Grendel."
He pulled his hand from his wound and screamed in pain. Suddenly an
arm shot out of the stump, dripping heavily with blood. Panzure
twisted the regrown limb experimentally and flexed the muscles.
"I had some really nice scars on that arm, you know," he said,
shrugging. "Better get some new ones, I suppose."
The assassin threw her two daggers, and both hit Panzure's new arm,
one slicing off a finger. Panzure flexed his palm and a new one
emerged, pale and weak.
"Please stop that. It really stings when I do that."
The assassin reached into her robes and drew out a throwing star.
She threw it directly at Panzure's neck. The mercenary ducked low and
caught it in his teeth.
"It may interest you to know," he said, spitting the throwing star
into a wooden beam nearby, "that we have been hired by the same
person."
The assassin stopped and stared blankly at Panzure. All he could see
behind those robes were her eyes, which showed a feeling of utter
confusion.
"Why did you not say so?"
"I needed the exercise," Panzure said, grinning. "I better fetch
Tan'et."
"No need," Tan'et said, emerging from a stairwell behind them,
carrying a bright lantern. "I am here. And I have found another of
our... associates."
"Excellent. So have I."
Zara blinked in the new, harsh light and pulled the hood from her
head. She had black fur and red hair that hung loose down her back.
"Oh, by the way," Panzure said cheerily. "How old are you? Exactly?"
"I'm twenty-three years," she replied "eight months, seventeen days
and four hours old. I have a good memory for this sort of thing. Why?"
Panzure beamed manically at Tan'et, and then stopped when he
realised the monk couldn't see.
"Who's our next contact, then?"
"His name is Jyanos."
"So?"
"He is the offspring of the Sun Goddess. A powerful Demi-God, the
supreme personification of Anger."